


La Vie en Rose

by Salimah



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But what's new about that, Insecure Ivar, Multi, Polyamory, also there is a awful lot of food, and paganism, and some mentions of sex, he's so nervious, my poor boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 21:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12968898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salimah/pseuds/Salimah
Summary: For the first time in his life, Ivar’s plan didn’t worked. And he can’t be more happy about it.





	La Vie en Rose

**Author's Note:**

> This is for @wanderlustingandwandering 800 Followers Celebration (yeah, I know, I only write for those things) in Tumblr. My prompt was ‘“Wait you like me…for my personality?”’ so here, enjoy my two loves together.
> 
> Eternal thanks to @brightlycoloredteacups for being my beta, again. I freaking love this woman, and you should go and make her happy if you can.
> 
> I think is painfully obvious that english isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes in the narration is because of that. Please let me know what do you think!

Perhaps it was the cold and cloudy weather of the morning that prevented his so meticulously planned flight, or the soft music that entered the room through the small slit of the half-open door. Who knows, maybe it was the hand caressing his hair with such delicacy and affection that he couldn’t help holding his breath for a few seconds.

Either way, Ivar woke up that morning in A Mood.

He pretended to be asleep for several more minutes, telling himself that he was waiting for Bucky to leave the room and not because he enjoyed sinking into the warm blankets of the bed and feeling long, defined fingers play with the strands of his hair. No, of course it wasn’t because of that. What the hell.

He knew it was Bucky by the way his hair tangled easily between the plates of the fingers of his metal arm. That, and the way he pulled a little harder than you would. Bucky wasn’t afraid to use his strength on him, he discovered last night, when his breathing had been stuck on your lips and his hands in Bucky's arms.

And now Ivar was pretending  _ no _ , he wasn’t about to have an erection just because someone caressed his hair. No matter how hungry for the human touch he was, Ivar refused to fall so deep. Even if it meant a second round –  _ third _ , in fact –.

When it became clear that Bucky wasn’t going anywhere, Ivar shifted between the sheets, like he was waking up just then. The hand on his hair retracted, and Ivar forced himself to swallow the feeling of emptiness that settled in his chest.

He fought the sheets for a few more moments before finally laying on his side, the tip of his nose brushing Bucky's ribs. His body radiated warmth and smelled of peppermint soap mixed with cigarette smoke. Their eyes connected through the soft light of the lamp on the ceiling.

"Good morning, angel face" Bucky was sitting against the head of the bed, one hand still stretched around Ivar and the other holding his phone. The screen was illuminated in a text chat. Ivar tried not to look, but from the quick glance he had he knew that Bucky was talking to Steve. He also saw the words 'incredible', 'fingers' and 'toast'. "You slept for a long time. We didn’t wanted to wake you up."

Ivar tried to concentrate on the sound of heavy raindrops pounding against the windowpane instead of how bright and blue Bucky's eyes looked from this angle.

He licked his lips in an attempt to moisten his dry mouth, "Well, you did it anyway with all that pulling." Ivar wanted to bang his head against the  headboard , but he still went ahead with his verbal vomit, "I thought you were going to tear my head off."

Ivar wanted his mood and personality to disappear between the sheets too, but Bucky just chuckled, "I thought you liked it hard."

An unwelcome warmth began to rise through his chest and down his neck, and Ivar struggled against it when it started to climb his face as well. He was  _ not _ blushing. No. Never. It wasn’t happening.

A scream from somewhere in the apartment saved him from having to respond. That must be you, no doubt. Ivar rushed to straighten up and look for some clothes, but Bucky put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Wait for it."

Ivar looked at him in disbelief for a few seconds before another scream made him pay attention again,  _ "Goddamn eggs!" _

Bucky laughed when he saw Ivar's expression, coming a little closer to him and putting an arm around his shoulders. Ivar ignored the tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach when Bucky pressed a kiss to his temple.

"We should go help her."

Bucky left another warm kiss on his skin, this time a little lower, near his ear "Uh huh..."

Ivar closed his eyes and savored the sensation. Bucky went down a little more, this time stopping at the curve of his neck and leaving a wet, hot kiss there. Ivar bit his lip to stop his moan when Bucky opened his mouth and sucked hard.

"Stop licking me. It's disgusting," he said suddenly. Of course, his natural way of being intervened in his relationships and ruined them at the worst possible time. As usual.

Bucky didn’t take it seriously, however, because he gave Ivar another warm kiss, this time on his shoulder, and stopped there for a few moments. Ivar could feel his smile against his skin.

"You're right, we should go make sure she doesn’t burn the house."

Bucky quickly untangled himself from the sheets, standing up and picking up a shirt from the floor. Ivar wasn’t sure if it was his or Bucky's, but he didn’t care. Bucky had something to cover, that was something less to distract himself with.

Bucky searched through his drawers for a few seconds before throwing a fresh, clean shirt in Ivar's direction, without even bothering to look to see where he was throwing it. Ivar caught it easily and hurriedly put the shirt on. No matter how comfortable he was in his own skin, so much nakedness was going to drive him crazy.

Bucky opened the door of the room and turned in his direction, "There are some pants in the drawer over there," he pointed with his chin to a drawer on his left, "But, you know, you always can go out without clothes."

Bucky had already closed the door when Ivar threw a shoe at him, his laughter mingling with the music he now recognized as jazz. Ivar tried not to smile, but it was too early to spend his mental strength on something so small. If the heavy rain from outside doesn’t stop soon, he would have to spend the day with you both. And oh, gods, Ivar wanted to run away as fast as his legs would allow.

As he sat there, listening to the rain fall and the voices of the two people he had been drooling over for months, Ivar felt ... disoriented.

What was he supposed to do now? Is there a rulebook for one-night stands adventures that Ivar didn’t know about? Of all the impulsive and stupid things he did, he always,  _ always _ had a plan to escape.

But now he couldn’t run away. Sure, he could pick up his clothes and go out the window. He would carefully descend the fire escape, taking care that his cane didn’t make much noise against the metal. Maybe call his brother to come pick him up a couple of blocks from the apartment. Yes, that sounded like a good escape plan.

But Ivar didn’t want that plan. Yes, his brother would ask him a million questions that he would probably never answer, and yes, maybe he would slip and break his neck as he went down the fire escape wet with rain, and yeah, why not, he would catch the worst cold in his medical history since he was eight years old. Nothing that he hadn’t faced before. He fled many times and had faced worse than the current situation.

The problem is that, oh, gods, Ivar  _ wants _ to stay.

He can count the things that have really made him feel happy or safe with the fingers of his hands. The thought of going back to his cold, sterile apartment right now stirs his stomach in a way he only feels when he has a particularly aggressive conversation with his brother Sigurd. The smell of cinnamon and honey was slowly coming into the room, the soft music and the animated voices calling him through the closed door.

Ivar found his leg brace hanging from the bedpost and put it on quickly before standing up. He looked for the pants that Bucky had pointed out to him. They weren’t in that drawer, but the one on the right. He looked around the room for his cane but couldn’t find it; he doesn’t remember where he had left it the night before, too busy taking off his clothes and keeping up with the two pairs of hands running through his skin. Ivar refused to recognize the chill that went up his spine at the thought.

When he already had something to wear and his heartbeat slowed to a normal pace, Ivar opened the bedroom door and walked out into the hall, stumbling along.

Bucky and you were running around the living room, going in and out of the kitchen with plates full of food and glasses of juice and milk. They were putting everything on the coffee table in front of the ugly yellow sofa, moving and arranging things so that all the food would fit on the small table. Ivar was petrified.

The storm was still banging against the windows of the apartment, the soothing sound of the rain combined with the soft voice of Billie Holiday. Ivar loved the rain; he liked the sound of falling drops and how cold and grey the day was, a perfect excuse to stay at home and not interact with anyone. This particular storm had darkened the sunshine almost completely; It almost felt like the afternoon already came.

Some brightly colored candles were scattered around the room and the kitchen. The department was relatively small; It's not like you or Bucky had much money to afford a bigger house. There was a hammock in the corner of the room, next to the balcony door. The curtains had yellow and pink floral prints and there were more plants than Ivar thought was comfortable. In short, it was the perfect apartment for a young couple of hippies like you and Bucky.

He stared at them a little more before realizing they weren’t going to realize his presence on their own. He stepped out of the shadows of the corridor and cleared his throat, though he would have preferred to stay in the dark a little longer. Watching them chatting so animatedly was giving him a strange sense of calm that seemed to dominate his growing anxiety.

You smiled as soon as you saw him, leaving on the coffee table the plate of pancakes you were holding to go towards him. Ivar instinctively recoiled when you approached, mentally striking when your step faltered a little. Ivar forced himself to straighten up and approach you on his own. He didn’t know your smile could become brighter, but boy did that little movement make it.

Ivar had a tendency to see things where they weren’t, but he was almost certain that you buzzed a little when you spoke to him, "You sleep like a log, did you know?"

Ivar tried to not grin so widely, but he couldn’t help but do it anyway. He must look so ridiculous to them, all blushed and shy. This was not a normal behavior in him, and damn, he hated to be like this in front of them, of all the people of the world.

You took his hand –a tingle went up his stomach to his chest– and pulled him to the couch, pushing him into his seat and running to get more food out of the kitchen. It seemed to Ivar that there was already enough food for an army, and that he was used to seeing delicacies in his own house.

Bucky was arranging the glasses on the coffee table so they wouldn’t spill, "We did a little more than we usually do for breakfast. We always make three rounds of pancakes; I hope you don’t mind eating a fifth."

"When are pancakes a problem?" He leaned back on the couch and stretched his legs, hiding his expression of relief at the movement. He had already seen his cane; It was besides of the coat rack in the entrance.

Bucky let out a laugh, the corners of his eyes wrinkling and his shoulders shaking. Ivar clenched his hands in his lap and told himself that the sound of his laugh was horrifying and that his smile made him want to vomit.

You came out of the kitchen holding a plate of toast in one hand and butter in the other. You sat next to him and somehow arranged the toast on the table next to the other things. As far as Ivar could tell, there were two plates full of pancakes, a dozen toasts, four eggs and  _ so much _ bacon. Not to mention the jug of orange juice and the milk box.

" _ 'A little more than usually' _ , huh?"

You shrugged your shoulders and turned on the TV, playing an episode of Jane the Virgin, "Blame the beast by your side. I have no idea how he turns all that food into muscles."

"It's an art that you have refused to master, doll." Bucky took a plate and began to put food on it. You did the same, putting three pancakes and two toast on your own plate. Bucky gestured to Ivar, "It’s not poisoned, angel face. Help yourself."

Ivar ignored the nickname –he was blushing again, but he ignored that too– and tentatively took a plate. He sat there watching the food for a few moments, alternating his gaze between the bacon and the people next to him. Neither you nor Bucky was paying attention to him, too immersed in the TV or in his own food.

Ivar forced himself to relax and take some food. He served two toasts, a little scrambled eggs and three strips of bacon. Nothing out of the ordinary. He layed back on the couch and tried to concentrate on the TV and not on the way your thigh brushed against his gently, or on the soft sound of the music floating in the room or the way you and Bucky laughed loudly every time they broadcast the Old Spice commercial.

"Terry Crews is a gift for this world."

Ivar was really trying to ignore the way his stomach jumped every time you or Bucky spoke to him.

And fuck, he felt ridiculous. Finally he had managed to have something with the two people he is a little  _ – _ just a _ little– _ in love with after months of settling for his undeserved friendship. He had embraced every moment he had had with them in recent months, telling himself that there was no way in the world that either of them cared about him, let alone both.

Ivar played with his food during half of the show, nodding and growling whenever you or Bucky talked to him. He was trying  to not show how delicious his breakfast was at the same time that he was planning another escape. The rain continued to fall heavily outside, the thunder echoing in the small apartment and momentarily illuminating the room through the balcony doors. There were a couple of candles around the apartment, most of them flavored. Ivar knew first hand that you liked to leave those little decorative details around, things like Wal-Mart paintings or ornaments.

By the time Ivar finished his plate, you and Bucky had already finished another portion. And there was still a little less than half of what was initially, so Ivar stretched to eat more.

He wasn’t used to an environment like this, at all. Sure, he had had extravagant breakfasts, but those moments felt cold and sterile compared to this. The family reunions he only attended to please his mother was always more a facade than a friendly meeting. Ivar spent most of the time tense and ready to respond to anything that offended him, which was usually almost everything.

Ivar hadn’t experienced that kind of security and familiarity since leaving his parents' house to live on his own. He had been feeding on anything canned that could be cooked in a microwave for the last eight months, and boy did he miss the homemade food.

You frowned when the Jane the Virgin episode ended, throwing your arms up in the air and growling in frustration, "They can’t leave me like that!"

"Of course they can, babydoll. When has a show satisfied us?" Bucky took a bite of pancakes and a drink from his glass of milk, changing the channel to a Scooby Doo schedule. Bucky smiled, "Nice."

"Hey, guys..." Ivar tried to say.

"I'm going to clean the kitchen a little, if you don’t mind. Babydoll, it's your turn to wash the dishes." Bucky stood up and picked up the empty plates while you complained, entering the kitchen. Both you and Ivar couldn’t help but notice the muscles in Bucky's back when he left the room. Ivar connected his gaze with you, and immediately looked away.

He cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed for the first but surely not the last time in the morning, "I'm sorry. I don’t want to exceed my limits."

When Ivar looked at you, however, there wasn’t anger or discomfort in your expression. In fact, you were making that gesture of confusion that you make every time you didn’t understand something, with the eyebrows pressed together and the head tilted to the side. Ivar didn’t want the word 'adorable' to be close to his usual vocabulary, but that was the best word to describe you when you made that expression.

You bit your lip in confusion and shook your head, "Why would you be exceeding–"

Before you could finish speaking, however, a thunder rumbled through the air and inside the apartment, shuddering everything inside him. And then, all the lights had gone out, the music player was no longer playing, and the voices of Shaggy and Scooby had disappeared.

Bucky's scream sounded from the kitchen, followed by the sound of something falling to the floor, "The power went out!"

"No shit!" Ivar shouted back.

Through the light that the scented candles could give him, Ivar could see the way you shrugged your shoulders and bit into a strip of bacon, "It had taken quite a while."

If there was any hope left that Ivar could implement some of his escape plans, there was no longer any. If there was any doubt in his mind about his feelings for you and Bucky, now he didn’t have any. Ivar was definitely in love with you both. And oh, fucking hell.  _ Why _ .

He had helped Bucky finish cleaning the kitchen, and then he helped you wash the dishes, avoiding talking most of the time, just nodding each time you spoke to him. The least he wanted was to let you both see how bitter he felt.

Ivar Lothbrok didn’t feel 'fond' for anyone other than his family, and sometimes he didn't even know if he really loved them anyway. Ivar Lothbrok didn’t let some sexy hippies call him 'angelface' or 'love', much less make him the best bacon in history after the best night of his life. Ivar Lothbrok didn’t sit on an ugly yellow sofa in pajamas that weren’t his to watch Jane the Virgin and eat tons of pancakes. But, above all those things, Ivar Lothbrok did  _ not _ fall in love.

And yet here he was, fighting so that his knees wouldn’t shake and his heart wouldn’t stop every time you or Bucky said his name.

Oh, gods, he’s pathetic.

With the help of a flashlight, you and Ivar rummaged in your closet for the box where you had your candles. Ivar doesn’t know why you needed so many candles, but he wasn’t going to complain in a situation like this. As they rummaged through your closet in search of the candles, Ivar found a couple of books of ancient mythology and religions. His pagan ass fell in love a little bit more with you right there.

Between the three of them, they began to light the apartment slowly. It felt weird; it couldn’t be more than noon, but the apartment was darkened by the rain. There wasn’t a single ray of sun coming from the sky, and with how strong the storm sounds, none would come out for a while longer.

Bucky inspected a candle carved with the drawing of a constellation, "I never understood your witch phase, but right now I'm glad you had it."

You rolled your eyes and snatched the candle from his hands, putting it back in the box, "It wasn’t a 'phase', James, it was very real. It still is." It was Bucky's turn to roll his eyes.

"Oh, please. You wore black from head to toe and said that colored stones that you bought from an imitation of Dumbledore gave you power."

Ivar lit the last candle and made sure it wasn’t in danger of falling before joining you and Bucky on the bed, sliding under the covers with them. He let you take his hand in yours and give it a distracted squeeze, too concentrated on the ridiculous fight with your boyfriend, "You couldn’t understand it even if I explained it to you with apples, so I’ll just ignore you."

"Like I need to know about chakras and auras and that shit."

You forgot to ignore him almost immediately, "One more word and Ivar will be the only person in this room who will receive these titties."

Bucky narrowed his eyes, "As much as I adore you, believe me, doll, I can live very well only with the ass of this cuteness right here."

Ivar had already resigned himself to blushing when he was near these two, but he didn’t expected it anyways. Before he could say a sarcastic answer, you pulled away from Bucky and snuggled closer to Ivar, pulling your legs over his and hiding your face in the curve of his neck. Ivar tried to act indifferent, but he was melting a little inside.

You moved a little more against him before speaking again, "How sad, he’s all mine now. Go away, beast with the metal arm." You mumbled as you hid a little deeper in Ivar's neck. Your breathing tickled just below his ear, making him shudder a little. He ignored the feeling in favor of paying attention to the discussion. Seeing you and Bucky fighting was one of the most entertaining things he could witness.

Bucky wasn’t taking any of your shit. He leaned over Ivar and you, supporting his weight with one hand. Bucky settled closer to you and Ivar, his body molded against your back and thighs. Ivar could hear your breath catch when Bucky pressed his lips to your neck, the same way he had done with Ivar that morning, a few hours before. "Why don’t we let Ivar decide which one of us is going to keep him for the rest of the day, huh?"

Ivar choked on his own breath for a moment. He was going to do  _ what _ ? "Keep me?" Was all he managed to say, for the concern of his partners. Bucky took a lock of your hair and began to play absent-mindedly with it while waiting for an outcome of the discussion.

"Yes, angelface, keep you."

You smiled malevolently, biting your lip and bending over him, brushing his lips with yours, "For the rest of the day."

Ivar just stared at them with wide eyes. Now he was panicking.

You felt how his body tensed suddenly. Moving away from him, you studied his face carefully, looking for a sign of discomfort, "Did we say something that bothered you?"

Ivar wanted to hit himself because oh, fucking hell,  _ no _ . You hadn’t done anything he hadn’t longed for during months, and there you were, asking him if he was okay and if he felt comfortable. When was the last time someone asked permission to affect their feelings? He didn’t deserve you or Bucky, who was now leaning over you too, his frown in sudden worry. Ivar wanted to kiss the grimaces on their faces until they disappeared.

Ivar tried to not hesitate when he spoke, although the mere fact of being able to hesitate made him nervous, "No, not at all. It's just that... "  _ You two have made me happy in a way that I didn't even know was possible and to be honest I don’t understand why you’re still talking with me,  _ "I don’t know what to expect from this. I mean, we're still friends, right?"

You and Bucky looked as confused as Ivar felt. They exchanged glances for a couple of moments before you spoke again, "Yes, Ivar, we are... friends." You paused before continuing to speak, like to see his reaction, "But what happened last night changed things a little."

Ivar shook his head in confusion, traveling his gaze between your eyes and Bucky's, "What happened last night was just silly, we were playing–"

Bucky interrupted him, shaking his head and looking at him anxiously, "It wasn’t a game, Ivar. We have loved you for months. We hadn’t made any movement because we thought you wouldn’t be interested in having ... well,  _ this _ , whatever we are."

Ivar couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Maybe he fallen out of bed and suffered a concussion, or still was asleep in his apartment. Maybe the hand that gently squeezed his arm was just an invention of his imagination. And maybe the pleading look he was getting was a hallucination for all the vanilla flavoring that Bucky insisted on putting into the whole apartment. Either way, Ivar didn’t know what to say.

"Wait, you like me... for my personality?" Ivar let out the sentence tentatively, hoping he was not reading all of this wrong. God, if this turned out to be a misunderstanding, he would consider very seriously the idea of going out the window and opening his head down the fire stairs.

Bucky rolled his eyes in exasperation as you sighed and hit Ivar on the forehead, "Of course we do, idiot. Do you really think that a simple pretty face could attract our attention this way?"

Ivar ran his gaze across the room before letting his eyes fall on you again, "I dunno, maybe?"

You growled and pressed your face on the pillow.

Bucky smiled and stroked your hair before returning his gaze to Ivar, his eyes shining with a kind of emotion that he thought was reserved only for you. "What she means is that we love you, Ivar. Maybe it's hard to believe, but last night was one of the best nights of my entire life. I know Y/N thinks the same."

You moaned from the pillow to confirm it. Ivar felt a ragged laugh rise up his throat and break the little tension that remained in the room.

His heart was coming out of his chest, and he could no longer find strength to try to repress the feeling. It had been a long time since he had been really happy and he wasn’t going to waste a single more moment just because of his stupid insecurity.

Letting a smile settle on his face, Ivar slid down the mattress and curled up beside you, pulling your hair until you lifted your head off the pillow to look at it. "I'm sorry I was an asshole. I'm not used to being around people I love."

There were a few moments when you just looked at him in disbelief before a smile broke on your face, which you tried to hide on the pillow, "It was about time you apologized, you ass."

Bucky laughed behind you, sliding under the covers and on his side, "That wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it, angelface?" He settled on your back, wrapping an arm around your waist and brushing his fingers in the hips of Ivar. Ivar no longer cared about proximity; he loved it.

Ivar let out a chuckle and hid his face in your neck, brushing his nose under your ear. He smiled when you gave a broken breath. "We have to learn to communicate better if we want this to work."

"We're already in a relationship, right? It's all I need to know right now." You mumbled sleepily. The soft light of the candles and the sound of the storm were attracting an atmosphere of sleep. Ivar was beginning to feel his  eyes heavy and tired muscles even though he had done absolutely nothing today. His legs didn’t hurt as they do usually; it must be the way he has ignored them all day.

Bucky watched as his two companions slowly surrendered to the dream and laughed at them, stroking them softly. "We'll discuss this after a nap, okay? With luck, the power will have returned for that moment."

Ivar didn’t liked the suggestion of a nap, it made him feel like a child, but he didn’t complain when you moaned with satisfaction and snuggled into his chest. Bucky got out of bed to blow out the candles in the living room before returning a few minutes later to get under the covers with them.

Listening to the soft breaths of his now companions, Ivar began to fall asleep. Feeling your arms around his waist and Bucky's hand caressing his arm, Ivar felt at home for the first time in years.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m a little worried about this one; I like the final result, but I don’t know if my characterization of Ivar is good. Idk, I feel like maybe he’s too... soft, I guess? I mean, almost all my fics are AU’s, so when I write him he does’nt have that bloodthirstiness that is so Ivar, so I dunno, maybe let me know what you think?
> 
> As always, leave a comment of what you think and let me know if you see any mistake. Thanks for reading!


End file.
